Not that she hadn't
been trying. In fact, that's all she had been thinking about since
she started staring at the casket. As people sobbed around her, she
concentrated on it. What had it been? It had been a phone call just
two days before ... and she couldn't remember. She often would get
angry with him and just hang up. Sometimes she would hand over the
phone to one of her parents. Sometimes he had to go really quickly
and would hang up with a hasty "Bye!" before she had a chance to
say anything. So the chances of her even saying a "See ya," were
fairly slim.

It was ridiculous to
even care, she knew that. Her brother was dead. That's what she
should be focusing on. Facing living without him. Thinking about
her feelings, taking care of her parents, helping her relatives set
this up. Trying to accept that he had gone to sleep one night, and
had never woken up again. Most of all, she should be crying. She
knew that in the back of her mind. Concerned aunts, uncles and
cousins had all mentioned her lack of tears. But she felt too
distracted. Too distracted by that phone conversation, and what the
hell she had said at the end of it.

The drone that was the
pudgy minister's voice had finally ceased. She stood up with
everyone else, and was driven to the reception down the road by her
silent parents.

What had she said? As
the sea of mourners swayed around her, the question tormented. What
if she had said something mean? They were always teasing each other,
and half the time they were caught up in some silly spat. If the
last thing she had said to him was an insult or harsh words ... how
could she live with that? How could she not remember? Damn it, why
couldn't she cry?

She was surprised to
see one of her friends in front of her, offering up empty words.
"I'm sorry," "It was so unexpected," and "He wasn't
even nineteen!" They washed off her, without leaving a trace, as
she bobbed her head mechanically. Anything so they would just leave
her alone.

Another friend came,
then another. She just kept nodding stiffly, still wondering What
did I say? What did I say? One comment found its way under her
skin. "You seem so strong. No tears. Dear, have you cried yet?"
No, her mind screamed. I can't cry! I have to know!
So just go away. Go away and leave me alone.

At home that night,
she stared at her phone. She willed it to give her the answers she
needed. She strained. She poked into every dusty corner in her
mind. What the hell had she said? She fell asleep on the couch,
still in a sitting position. Still staring at the tiny gray bit of
metal on the table. And it was still yielding nothing.

A week later, she sat
on her front porch alone. Her back was sore from sitting, and her
voice was rusty from disuse, but her mind still worked in overdrive.
Something inside told her. If she could just figure it out, it would
all be all right. She would be ok. She could finally deal with it
if she...

"Jen?"

She turned. Her
brother's girlfriend was sitting next to her, probably talking too
and she hadn't noticed. Her look was concerned, and she had
several tearstains on her cheeks. "Sorry, Sara. What?"

"I just ..." Sara
twisted her shirt, looking awkward and a little confused. "I don't
know who else to talk to, and I thought ..." She stood up. "I'm
sorry, this is crazy, isn't it? We didn't even talk much before,
and here I am ..."

She marveled at the
small twist of pity she felt. She could actually feel sorry for her.
"No. It's ok. What did you want to say?"

Sara hesitated, then
lowered herself back down to the porch. "Well ... It's just, I
wanted to talk to someone. Who, you know. Wouldn't try to analyze
me. Or say I'm sorry. Just ... someone to actually say
something."

She nodded slowly.
"Yeah, I know what you mean. My relatives that we haven't even
seen in like four years keep flying out, and we have to put them up."

Sara rolled her eyes.
"I know! So many people keep trying to be my friend and comfort me
now, and I don't even know them."

She smiled a little.
"You know what's even worse? When someone offers their
condolences."

"So stupid! I want
to scream, 'What the hell good are your condolences? They aren't'
..." Sara's grin faded away. She looked down and finished in a
small voice. "They aren't him."

They were silent for a
long time. She was amazed when she suddenly heard Sara whisper, "I
miss him."

"Me too," she said
softly. "I miss him ..."

"I miss ya, sis!"
He sounded teasing, but she could tell he meant it.

"I miss you too,
bro."

"Now don't get
all sappy one me." She could see his grin across the phone.

She gasped.
"Never." She giggled a little.

"Good. Don't
ever change."

"I won't."

"Well, I should
go. I've got an insane test in the morning. Bye, Jen."

"Good-bye,
Stephan."

"Good-bye, Stephan."

A smile split her face
in half as tears ran down her cheeks, finally giving her sweet
relief. She sobbed out her heart and laughed with pure delight at
the same time, terrifying poor Sara, who probably thought she was
having some kind of nervous breakdown. All the walls were breaking
down, and she could feel again. It was going to be ok. It was going
to be alright.

She had said good-bye.

AN: Horrible time to
be related to my friends. This is my tribute to my friend's (who
really is also named Jen) brother, who just died suddenly in his
sleep. May God keep him.

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